Mizzy Python's Flying Circus
by Argentine Rose
Summary: Ever wondered what Les Miserables would have been like had it been written by the Python boys rather than Hugo? No, I didn't think so. Neverless, I am going to attempt to show you
1. Default Chapter

A/N - Yes, I realsie that this is utter insanity. I would like to take this opertunity to divert the blame away from myself and towrds AmZ (a comment she made about John Cleese being like Javert) and LesMisLoony (all those Python references she packed into "The Mann of Paris") None of this is my fault and they're coming to take me away (Ha Ha!)

* * *

Imagine, if you will, England in the nineteen-seventies. Then imagine a small flat in an exclusive area. Imagine the dining room of this small flat. There! Now I have you right where I want you. Which is watching over two couples having a dinner party in a small but exclusive flat in 70's London. I want you to see the candlelight, the funny dresses and the dodgy side-whiskers, hear the kitsch mood music and smell the coq au vin. Having you done that? Right then . . .

. . ."oh, we really had the most marvelous holiday," says Wife Number 1 to Husband and Wife Number 2, "Michael, you tell them about it"

Just as Michael is about to open his mouth and describe in boring detail their recent sojourn in Le Touquet, the doorbell rings. Now, who can that be? He thinks. Most inconvenient that they should choose to call in the middle of our dinner party. But, being a well bred chap, he opens the door despite the inconvenience.

At the door stands a man dressed in the costume of the early 19th century French agricultural working poor. He has a hip bath of dung balanced upon his shoulders

"Dung, Sir" saith the peasant

"What? What dung?" saith Husband Number 1

"Your dung. 300 weight of heavy droppings. Where d'you want it?"

"I didn't order any dung!"

"Yes you did. You ordered it through the 'book of the month' club"

"What?" asks Husband Number 1, as well one might.

"That's right. You get _Gone With The Wind_, _Les Miserables_ by Victor Hugo and _The French Lieutenant's Woman_ and with every third book you get dung."

With that notre paysan drops the dung and calls "Bring in the rest, boys!" over his shoulder. Husband and Wife Number 2 shrieks and flee in horror, their coq au vin untouched.

If you will permit me a time lapse of around one hour I will show you the pitiful sight of Husband and Wife Number 1 sitting atop an enormous dung heap, begrimed with the stuff an clutching a copy of _Les Miserables_. An act of desperation, Wife Number 1 begins to read

"In the year 1815 Carles-Francois-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of Digne . . ."

**AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT**

(Actually, that rather depends on whether you were expecting different from the dinner party or different from _Les Miserables._ Anyway . . . )

Cue the famous music. Cue the famous animations. You all know what they look like. Don't you? If not, why shame on you! OK, there's these pipes, and flowers, and an enormous foot, and they all want to welcome you to

**MIZZY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS**


	2. Jean Valjean

Brie is not far from Paris, yet it is wild, as the diligences pass through it fearful for it is rumoured that a terrible shadow haunts its countryside, preying upon the weak, the defenceless and the rich. This shadow is a brigand, one out of many and the chief of them all. Before they left the inn the travelers in tonight's coach were regaled with tales of his ruthless and cutthroat ways and, huddled up now inside the carriage, they shiver. Somewhere in the dark and owl hoots, there is the crack of twigs and the rustle of bushes and the sound of another horse upon the road. The passengers quake in fear as they perceive a night-black shadow slink to the window. Then, from the inky black, there comes a rough, terrible voice

"Stop, I have a gun! No false moves please"

The passengers look from the window to see a figure in black, masked and mounted, peering at them. Eventually he speaks again: "I want you to give me all the lupins you've got"

"Lupins?" exclaims and elderly lawyer incredulously

"Yes lupins. Come on! Come on!"

"What do you mean "lupins"" asks a young priest.

"Don't try and play for time," the brigand growls and they noticed that he has a thick peasant burr.

"I'm not," replies the clergyman, "you mean the flower lupins?"

"Yes, that's right," affirms the masked fiend.

"Well, we haven't got any lupins. Honestly!" says a wide eyed young woman.

"My fine friends, I happen to know that this is the lupin express!"

"You must be out of your tiny mind," mutters the lawyer.

At this the highwayman dismounts. He is a short, stocky man who walks in a manner that could be called either silly of sinister; "Get out of the coach!" he barks.

The terrified travelers agree and the robber begins to rummage through the contents of the carriage. Soon he withdraws, triumphant, clutching an enormous bunch of lupins. "Just as I thought," he sneers, "not clever enough, my fine friends!" with that he remounts his horse and with the words "Gee up, Malibu," gallops off into the night

**Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean! Riding through the night**

**Soon every lupin in the land will be in his mighty hand**

**He steals them from the rich, and gives them to the poor**

**Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean**

We next find ourselves inside one of the wretched peasant hovels of the region. It is a poor place, cold and of little cheer and with barely room enough for the nine souls that live huddled within it. Inside, Mother Jeanne bends of her little daughter, sick with fever. The girl lies on a bed of lupins which match the garland of lupins worn by her mother. Mother Jeanne offers the child something from a wooden spoon – diced lupin: "Try to eat some, my dear, "she coaxes, "It will give you strength"

Someone enters the little hovel. It is the fearsome brigand. Jeanne runs to him

"Oh Jean, "she cries, "She's fading fast"

"Don't worry, sister, I've brought you something"

Jeanne's face lights up: "Medicine at last?"

"No"

"Food?"

"No"

"Some blankets at last? Clothes? Wood for the fire?"

With great ceremony Jean pulls out the bunch of flowers concealed under his coat: "Nope, Lupins!"

"Oh Christ!" exclaims Mother Jeanne, her slender stock of patience finally exhausted

"I thought you liked them," says Jean apologetically

"I'm sick to death of them!" the poor woman cries.

"So am I!" croaks the child

"Your own niece is dying and all you bring us is lupins! All we've eaten for the last four bleeding weeks is lupin soup, roast lupin, steamed lupin, Lupin in the basket with sautéed lupins, lupin meringue pie, lupin sorbet. We sleep on lupins, we sit on lupins, we feed the cat on lupins, we burn lupins, we ever wear the bloody things!"

"You look very pretty – "

"Oh shut up! We're sick to death of the stench of them – "

Jeanne's sobbing tirade is interrupted by a choking sound and a thud from the corner. The cat is revealed, dead on the floor with a pink lupin in its jaws. This is too much for Jeanne, who begins to beat her brother; "Look! The cat's gone and choked itself to death on one. I don't care if I never see another lupin till the day I die. Why can't you go out and steal something useful?"

"Like what?" asks poor, beleaguered Jean.

"Like gold and silver, and bread and clothes and jewels"

"Can you make a list?"

At this, Mother Jeanne takes of her lupin wreath and attempts to choke him with it.

Later that night, Jean Valjean, most feared highwayman in Brie, bursts through the window of a smart house in Faverolles in the middle of a dinner party. All the guests – including the elderly lawyer, young clergyman and wide-eyed lady of the previous scene – stare at him in consternation.

"Oh what now? We haven't got any more lupins"

"Give me all your bread, gold, silver, cats, chess setserm . . . hang on"

He fishes in his coat for Mother Jeanne's list and tries to make sense of it. Since he is utterly illiterate this takes some time. Time enough, in fact, for the gendarmes to be summoned. They bear Jean away to prison as he is still trying to remember what it was he wanted in the first place

**Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean !**

**Dum dum dum dum die**

**Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean!**

**Dum dum dum dum die**

**He steals dum dum dum**

**And gives dum dum die**

**Jean Valdum, Dumb Valjean**

**Dum dum die**


	3. Prison

He comes to. Looking about himself he discovers he is in a cell of a damp dark jail. Misery drips of the walls like . . . like water (no point trying to be clever about this). There are sounds of screaming and crying and groaning and general not-very-happy – ness. It takes him a while to realise where he is: Touoln (a strategic navel base, nicely situated at one end of the Cote D'Azur. Not an entirely terrible place for a holiday, since it has a superb modern art gallery – although I myself prefer Nice – despite its penchant, in the early 21st century, forfascist politics. But I digress. But then you expected that of me. Honestly now, am I earning a bit of a rep for pointless digressions? I'd like to know if that's the case

**JUST GET ON WITH IT!**

Oh, ok. Jean crawls to the door just as the hideously misshapen gaoler is turning the key

"I was a tree pruner and lupin enthusiast, from Faverolles," he begs

For an answer, the rather lumpy guard spits in his face and wanders off to take part in a staff performance of a certain Victor Hugo novel. Jean collapses on the floor in despair.

"You lucky bastard!" someone calls.

Jean turns around and sees a man who is more beard than either face or body chain to the wall. His trousers are held up by a check brace; "You lucky bastard" he repeats

"What?" says Jean, bewildered

"Proper little jailor's pet, aren't you," the fellow sneers, "You must have slipped him a few centimes."

"Slipped him a few centimes. One: I don't have a few centimes to slip anybody. That's the problem, that's why I'm here. Two: you saw him spit in my face!"

"What I wouldn't give to be spat at in the face!" cries the man with a look of rapture somewhere under his beard, "I sometimes lie awake at night thinking about being spat at in the face!"

"But it's not very friendly, is it? They've got me in manacles – "

"Manacles! Ooooooh!" squeals the man in transports of ecstasy, "They must think the sun shines out of your arse sonny!"

Jean is again close to tears: "Oh lay off! I've had a hard day!"

"You've had a hard day! I had to file the calluses on M'sieur Thierry's hump this morning – "

"Alright, alright. Enough! But what will they do to me?"

"You might get away with guillotining . . ."

"Get away with guillotining?"

"Yeah! Chop 'em up I say! Chop some sense into 'em!"

Jean is now deeply frightened, almost to the point of hysteria. He crawls to the door and begins to shake it

"Guards! Guards!" he cries

A young man, very tall, wearing a pink dress and carrying a tambourine and a goat appears: "Yes, can I help you?"

"I want to switch cells!"

"Sorry, no can do" He begins to walk away when the hunchback gaoler appears and indicates to the younger man that he has forgotten something. "Oh sorry! Of course!" exclaims the youth in the frock and, turning back to Jean Valjean, spits in his face

"Bloody favouritism" whines his cell mate.

* * *

I really can't be arsed to describe this next bit so just try and remember the opening of _Little Dorrit_ when Dickens goes on about Marseilles being hot and white and then talks about a prison, then apply it to Toulon. If you haven't read that bit, just imagine whatever the hell you like, even if it has purple spots on it.

Jean Valjean, along with the other new inmates of Toulon, is in the prison yard. It is the chain's first day of work and they wait in trepidation to find out what will be expected of them. Finally an officer enters the yard.

It is the young guard from the previous scene, now without the pink dress and tambourine but still being trailed by the goat. A reasonably alert reader will realize who he is and what his place in the story will be. Contrary to Hugo's fearsome description of him, however, he is a rather nice looking young man in an affable, floppy-haired, Romany answer to Hugh Grant sort of a way.

"Good morning numbers 24580 through 24627" he says.

"Good morning, Monsieur . . . ?" they chorus back.

"Javert. My name's Javert. Do not forget me numbers 24580 through 24627! Do not forget my name! Now, a lot of you are wondering what you are going to be during you're incarceration, and I'm going to tell you. I have been perusing your police reports and have hand-picked you all for a very special job here. I've have been sent from the department newly established by our great Emperor to make you into the French Empire's – and, indeed, the world's – first ever chain gang of silly walks. So if you'd like to follow me – " The young guard hops off backwards, is struck by a sudden thought, walks back towards the prisoners on tiptoe, spits at them and remarks: "Damn, I always forget that bit" Then he hops away again and the prisoners follow in bewilderment, but perfectly normally. Perfectly normally, that is, except for Jean Valjean who, as we have already mentioned, walked in a manner either silly or sinister.

"Oh come along!" cries Javert, "I'm sure you can all be much sillier than that! Watch 24601 – he's got the idea. Quite a remarkable silly walk – I've never seen anything like it in all my born days!"

* * *

ESCAPE: Take 1

Our dear floppy haired young warder, Javert, is sending a party of convicts off to break rocks. They wait in line to be given their instructions

"Rock breaking?" he asks scary masochist Brevet, who nods, "Good. Out the door, line on the left, one pick each. Next! Rock breaking?" 24600 nods dumbly. "Excellent! Out the door, line on the left, one pick each. Next!

Rock breaking?" he asks Jean Valjean.

Jean, for one of a very few times in his life, has an idea: "No, freedom."

"What?"

"Yeah, they said I hadn't done anything so I could go free and live on an island somewhere."

"Well, that's jolly good. Off you go then" Two days later, we see Valjean being thrown back into his cell. He is spat upon and Brevet begins to complain. Why does this happen? Because the plot demands it. How did it happen? Don't ask silly questions

* * *

ESCAPE: Take two

In classic prison escape fashion, Jean Valjean decides to make a break for it. He runs as fast as his silly walk can carry him. Unfortunately he does what stupid people do in horror films and runs right up some stair. Finding himself trapped on the roof with many, many guards behind him, he considers jumping off. Fortunately he is picked up and whisked off by a passing spaceship. The little green men piloting the spaceship are greatly surprised to see him and take him on a magical mystery tour of a galaxy far far away before returning their new friend home. Unfortunately again, their intergalactic craft travels so fast that only two minutes of earth time has passed, which has just allowed the prison guards to also reach the roof. Jean is instantly recaptured.

* * *

ESCAPE: Take three

Much the same as escape take one only that no spaceship is forthcoming so Valjean is recaptured two minutes earlier and makes no new friends

* * *

ESCAPE – Take 4

Eventually Jean Valjean and a party of convicts decide to tunnel out of the Toulon penitentiary. Brevet the Masochist, for obvious reasons, decides not to join them. They're doing rather well too until, in the dark of the tunnel they come up against another party of ragged red smocked escapees

"What are you doing here?" they ask

"Well," says one of the rival groups, "We've had this brilliant idea. We tunnel our way out under the wall and escape"

"But that's our plan!"

"No it's not – we've been thinking about it for weeks."

"We thought of it first, you Welsh git!"

"I should poke you in the eye for that!"

Which he does. And a general kicking of kneecaps, punching, scraping and biting occurs.

"Stop it!" cries Jean Valjean, "Surely we should be uniting against the common enemy?"

"How did the bloody English get here?" ask the convicts, astonished.

"NO! Monsieur Thierry and the prison warders!

"Oh. S'pose so, but we still thought of it first."

"Does it matter? Can't well all just leave together?"

However, by this point it is far too late. All the rumpus they have previously made has alerted the warders, who are now pouring into the tunnel in force

* * *

Jean Valjean was eventually released after 19 years hard labour, because that is the way of things 


End file.
